


In Crypts and Cracks and Crinkled Crumples

by Sketchy_Skittles



Category: Original Work
Genre: 1 am writing machine go brrrr i guess, Cassandra Watkins, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Familial Love, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Mystery Kid - Freeform, Not Beta Read, Oneshot, Sleep troubles, but like a bunch of them, funky oc names, like really light, more tags to be added as i write chapters - Freeform, swearing but its only like once, vague hurt/comfort but its there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:22:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27554551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sketchy_Skittles/pseuds/Sketchy_Skittles
Summary: love takes every shapeaka a bunch of little moments of love and tenderness and care. All platonic/familial unless marked otherwise.latest:M.K. looked up at her, eyes soft as only a child’s—her child’s, her kid’s, the realization played over again—could be.
Relationships: Original Character & Original Character, Original Female Character & Original Female Character





	In Crypts and Cracks and Crinkled Crumples

**Author's Note:**

> I swap between nicknames for these two alot, sorry if its a bit confusing lol

A dry, scratchy feeling woke her up, much to her dismay. It was the first thing she was aware of before she opened her eyes to the darkened ceiling of her darkened room, only small bits of light creeping in through the window from the street lamps below, giving everything a vague orange outline. Cassandra blinked, contemplating rolling out of bed to address it. 

On the one hand, it would be hard to sleep through, and a drink of water could never really hurt.

On the other, however, she was very sleepy and very lazy. Torn, the clairvoyant closed her eyes and breathed in deep, poking at her abilities until they stirred and showed her two short snippets of the future: one where she woke the next morning well-rested after getting up in the night, and another where she hardly slept, too bothered to sleep but not so much so to get up.

Grumbling as she opened her eyes, she pushed off the covers. The floorboards were cold as they met her feet, and the door made the choice not to creak as it opened. 

Cassandra crept out of the bedroom and down the hall, light on her feet, wary of waking someone else.

It had been well over a year since she’d met M.K., however sudden and somewhat unwilling it had been on both party’s fronts. And though she would refute the exact timeframe, (Cassandra had a reputation, after all) it didn’t take long for the kid to grow on her, worming her way into her heart until shed taken her in fully. It wasn’t until 6 months ago that she formally offered to let M.K. live with her permanently, and it took another 3 months to finish gathering together the resources she needed to get an apartment with one extra room and a bed, as to give her a place to sleep that wasn’t her shitty old pull-out-futon of a couch. Even so, it wasn’t uncommon for Cassandra to find her the next morning curled up on an armrest, her blanket dragged from her room and draped from her shoulders.

(“The bed’s so mushy, ‘m not used to it,” Kid would defend once she woke.

“It’d get more comfortable if you slept in it more” Cass would counter over her tea.

“But with springs that squeaky I’ll never _get to_ sleep”

“I got you ear muffs, didn’t I?”)

Rounding the corner, she once again found M.K. curled up on the couch, albeit not asleep. Instead, she sat criss-cross, a book propped in her lap. One shaky hand sat primed to flip the pages while the other pressed hard on her left knee, a small penlight held between her teeth lighting up the scene as she red. She failed to notice Cassandra.

Not even bothering to debate the choice she trotted through the den, rounding the couch and passing into the kitchenette, during which time Kid took no notice. She snatched a teal mug (or seemingly teal, at the very least) from the cupboard and filling it with water from the tap. Kid didn’t even flinch.

Spotting this, she pulled another mug—red this time, with white spots—from the cupboard and filled it with pineapple-orange juice from the fridge, which clattered and clinked as she swung it shut. She nabbed an orange straw from the counter as well.

Cassandra placed both drinks and the straw on the end table before walking around back the couch once more and leaning over, crossing her arms atop Kid’s head.

“What’cha readin’?”

She finally reacted, sending both the book and penlight flying as she jumped. Throwing her head back, she looked up at Cass, who snorted, holding back a chuckle at her expense as Kid frowned slightly.

“Hi Cassie.”

“Hey Kid. Sorry about the scare.”

M.K. narrowed her eyes and wrinkled her nose.

“You don’t _look_ very sorry.”

In lieu of a reply, Cassandra trotted over to the book and penlight, scoping them up before returning to the couch and offering them to Kid.

“Is _this_ a good enough apology?”

She hesitated, hand half outstretched before taking the book and light, pressing the former to her chest with her left hand while the ladder was clamped in her right, sitting on her knee as she turned her eyes to study it. Cass sat down beside her.

She took both mugs from the end table, sliding the red one into M.K.’s view. She dropped both items in her lap and took it, but not without hesitating once again. Cassandra sipped her water.

“So, is that the one on Canadian moths?”

“North American moths, but close enough.”

A pause. 

She sipped some more water. Kid watched her juice shift in the cup.

“any neat moths?”

“...There’s the Hummingbird-hawk moth. It’s a moth that looks like a hummingbird.”

“Oh really? Do they live around here?”

M.K. didn’t hear, much too focused on her trembling mug and the juice inside. She frowned as though it had slighted her, and stared with such intensity one would think she was trying to make it levitate.

_Ah. Right._

Cass took the straw and held it out to her.

“Here.” 

M.K. took it with her left hand—which shook somewhat more than her right—and dropped it into her cup before sipping. She smiled slightly in thanks.

For a time they drank in silence, sitting in the dark. Cass watched her, quiet and questioning.

“I couldn’t sleep,” M.K. chimed eventually, “I had a weird dream.”

Cassandra held the empty mug in her lap.

“What about?”

“‘dunno,” Kid set hers on the coffee table, an old relic, “I don’t remember.”

“Was it a bad weird?”

“...Maybe.”

A minute passed before Cass shifted, placing her mug on the coffee table and leaning against the arm of the couch. M.K. shifted as well, leaning into her side and letting the book and the penlight tumble to the floor.

“I thought reading would make me feel better, but I left my moth book in the kitchen, so i came out here to read it.”

“Did it help?”

“No. my handshake was too bad, I couldn’t really read it.”

Cassandra hummed, unconsciously running a hand through M.K.’s messy hair.

“Would it help if I told you a story?”

Kid looked up at her, eyes soft as only a child’s—her child’s, _her kid’s_ , the realization played over again—could be. 

“Mmm-hmm”

From somewhere warm and deep and comfortable within herself, she chuckled.

“Ok, ok, lets see.”

She looked up as Kid snuggled closer, Cass wrapping her free arm closer around her as she scoured her brain for stories she’d learned in the mythology class she’d taken in college. 

She came up empty but pressed on, determined not to let her kid down.

“Once upon a time, there was a little moth with shiny wings…”

**Author's Note:**

> Hummingbird-Hawk moths are rad, look them up  
> sorry if this is kinda incoherent im tired, i just love these two alot and wanted to write about them  
> comments would just salt my crisps (i am running out of ideas for these help)  
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
